70. Tickling the Ivory

Date Written: July 8, 2019

Date Posted: November 17, 2020

Characters: Veneziano

Summary: A young woman is encouraged by a mysterious young man to play a piano.

Notes: Just to be clear, I didn't watch Your Lie in April at the time this was written. (I'm actually watching it right now!) I was actually inspired by an old commercial called "Encouragement—Concert TV Spot | Pass it On". You can find it on YouTube if you're interested.


Inside an Italian airport, a small, battered, but well loved piano stood proudly. Although not holding the same stately vibrance of that of a grand piano,this small piano still commanded the same need for reverence for a musical instrument. On most days, casual passersby happened to leave it alone. On this particular day, the holidays were quickly approaching, thus ensuring that while the airport was packed to capacity, not many paid the people any mind. Only a few children managed to bang a little on the keys. Even fewer deigned to play songs and the occasional piece.

Among the holiday travelers, a young woman had situated herself within a small alcove where she happened to spot a bench. Even though it was ripe for the taking, no one else had found the hidden spot. A little thankful for the extra space, the woman sighed and placed her belongings close to her before lazily eyeing the scenery. She, like many others before her, had seen the piano.

A part of her wanted to play with it, just to see if she could, but the thought of doing so terrified her.

An airport wasn't exactly the most private of places to play such an instrument and she wasn't exactly skilled. So, like most people before her, she merely watched the passersby and waited for when her terminal finally opened.

"Hello, miss! Do you mind if I sit here?"

The young woman, a little startled that someone managed to find her little alcove, hurriedly glanced up.

She found herself staring at a young man in a business suit carrying a bag for a laptop in one hand and a styrofoam cup of coffee in the other. Seeing that he was nothing more than a peculiarly young businessman, the young woman nodded her assent. At her unspoken permission, the man sat down.

As the man did so, the young woman couldn't help but stare at him from the corner of her eyes. Upon further inspection, the young man seemed almost too young, but impossibly aged at the same time. Perhaps it was his eyes—so dark and so brown, almost as if you could drown in their darkest depths.

Some people just happened to be blessed with old souls.

Satisfied with her somewhat nosy observation, the woman faced forward and—

"It's been almost a decade since I last touched a piano." Startled at the sudden admission, the woman looked to the stranger, only to realize that he looked and sounded sad and forlorn. It almost felt like the woman was intruding on something private. Dare she say anything? Was he being rhetorical? "I had a fine tutor long ago… Do you play?"

The woman bit her lip when the stranger turned to look at her, a pleasant smile on his face. "Oh, er… I've actually enrolled myself at a music shop. I'm still a beginner."

Even if it came from her mouth, she felt that her words were jumbled and barely coherent. Plus, she could feel her cheeks redden in embarrassment. The stranger must have sensed her unease because he immediately apologized.

"I was just wondering if a beautiful woman like yourself would like to accompany me. Airports are too stressful for me. Good music will surely add some levity."

"O-oh." She shifted uneasily in her seat. She hadn't practiced for the past few days and she had only started playing only a few months ago! The most that she learned that could pass for music were a few nursery rhymes and hymns. "Signor, I sincerely doubt that I have the skill to-to…" She gestured quite frantically at the piano.

The man canted his head to the side. "Skill to what?"

"I would hope that you already know." Her tone was icy, but her face aflame. "You're probably better than me at any rate."

As she turned away from the stranger, she felt an angry hot flush creep up the sides of her neck, heat her ears, and stain her cheeks. Needles prodding her brain were far more enjoyable an experience than confessing that she was well past the desirable age to take piano lessons. Ever since she was a little girl, she always imagined that she would master at least one instrument or special skill. The reality was so much more pitiful. At the very most, it was painful.

The stranger looked upon her with unprecedented understanding. It was as if he had gazed into her soul and knew everything about her. At that moment, her entire self was laid bare, all her secrets and desires made known to him.

She dared not question this level of understanding that he had on her person.

It was absolutely terrifying to know that he could see right through her and that it was fine knowing that this stranger didn't feel like a random man in an airport terminal, but rather someone she had known her entire life.

It was a disconcerting feeling.

"Being better at something doesn't always qualify for success. Also," he stopped her from interjecting with a wave of his hand, "being a beginner doesn't automatically disqualify you from enjoying yourself. That is what music is all about. Self expression and enjoyment."

"And if the audience doesn't like my rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?"

He shot her a toothy grin.

And before she could admonish him for evading the question, the stranger had seen fit to grab not only his briefcase, but also her belongings. For such a slim frame, he must have packed quite a little bit of muscle. How could he move so elegantly while being weighed by objects that would have made lesser men falter? And at such a speed? She could have sworn that he was speeding away at Mach 1 from the way he smiled and dashed away to the piano.

When he reached the piano, he placed the belongings at the side of the piano and sat on one end of the piano stool. "Come, signorina bella! Let's play!" With such a childish way of gesturing, he waved her wildly at her so that she may sit next to him.

"But… I can—"

"Si, the both of us will make great music!" The light in his dark brown eyes glowed brighter still. It was a warm kind of glow that allayed her fears and brought peace to her soul. The woman finally consented and went to take a seat.

Back in the waiting area of the small alcove, they had been sitting directly together. However, the seating managed to maintain some distance so that random strangers wouldn't be literally rubbing elbows with everyone. On the other hand, the bench in front of the piano was ideally for only one player. When she squeezed right next to the stranger (begrudgingly, she thought), she found a comfortable sort of discomfort that came from sitting next to a stranger.

His body's heat seemed to slowly caress her own body like a weightless blanket. She was keenly aware of how their bodies touched, of the way his arms, while encased in an unyielding suit, seemed to carve out the muscles underneath. It was at that moment, she took note of how much bigger and stronger he was.

For a moment, she simply breathed and took it all in.

"Play." She looked up at him with something akin to fear, which only encouraged paternal sadness to rise within him. What had the young woman gone through her life that she may have never realized the potential that lay within her? "Play." He said again. "Anything you want, however you want."

"Everyone will watch."

"Then let them watch." The stronger positioned his hands over the keys. Even when he was simply letting his fingers rest above the keys, he looked the utter replica of grace and professionalism. "Begin when you're ready."

And what happens if I'm never ready? As much as the woman was loath to admit, she felt drawn to the piano and in wanting to prove herself to this incomprehensible stranger.

So, with all the ardor of a six-year-old wanting to impress her parents, the woman chose the higher pitched keys and began.

She had started with every beginner's favorite song: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. It was a simple little thing that only required her right hand. She would have gone for any other song in her repertoire (all of them beloved beginner's pieces), but her mind had completely blanked.

For one ghastly moment, the woman thought that she would be the only one playing. That the stranger who was unnervingly kind had betrayed her. It was until she began to repeat the song that she began to realize something odd.

It wasn't just her notes that rang aloud throughout the terminal.

The stranger was playing with her.

A quick glance at his side of the piano had her tripping over a few keys. He was basically adding color and vibrancy to her chosen song. He was adding flourishes and techniques that the woman had seen only in viewing YouTube videos and in some descriptions in practice workbooks for higher level students. Every move he made was like watching a ballet dancer perform right on top of the ivory keys.

He was a true musician.

And then, a horrifying thought came upon her.

If he was so good, then why did he want an accompanist that looked and played like her! An adult playing one of the easiest songs known to man while he was busy channeling Mozart! Was she holding him back? Was this all an attempt to poke fun at her? Was he disapp-

He caught her eyes and dazzled her with a wondrous smile.

"You're doing well, signorina!"

The woman did not reply. She was too focused on maintaining count and playing the correct keys. However, there was an indignant glare on her face that did nothing but enhance the flush of red on her face.

"If you can, please repeat them again."

At the corner of her periphery, she could see him winking at her. At the sight of such warm, dark brown eyes, the woman felt warmth fill her chest and blossom towards her fingers. It was like he saw her doubt and fear and tried to allay her feelings while also bringing levity to the situation. For that, the woman was grateful that her accompanist was seeing this to the very end and that he had not abandoned her in the midst of a startlingly good performance.

As she repeated the song for the final time, his side built up to a crescendo. Once the last note reverberated throughout the terminal, applause erupted from those who had been watching from the sidelines.

"I—" The woman looked down at her hands, both of them shaking still hovering over the worn keys. "H-how—?"

The man grasped both of her hands, rubbing some warmth and stability into them. In an instant, she felt better and all the more pleased that she succeeded in delivering a performance for her fellow travelers.

"Grazie, signor," she whispered.

He winked back at her before placing a chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles. When all she could do was sputter out in embarrassment, he made her promise to practice more before taking his briefcase and running out into the crowds.

The last she saw of the stranger was that he was hurriedly rushing into a terminal that was just about to close.